


skirt so short that I see heaven

by switmikan74



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi in cheerleader uniform, Attempt at Humor, Dirty Talk, M/M, Seduction, Smut, Training Camp, kuroo is a Good Friend, thirsty Bokuto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24229999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/switmikan74/pseuds/switmikan74
Summary: If hell was redesigned to be a situation where Akaashi wears a cheerleader uniform, provokes his hormones during practice games and between breaks, seduces him and makes him think he is getting some before pulling away and prancing out, then Bokuto is in hell.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 247





	skirt so short that I see heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Or in which, 
> 
> It was a simple bet that involves prettying up the team’s setter with a cheerleader outfit if they lose. Akaashi is not amused.
> 
> I love some cheerleader clad Akaashi. Yes, I do. And some thirsty Bokuto. Yes, yes, yes.

* * *

There should be a drawn line somewhere that limits the amount of stupidity for a person. Or a humungous sign with bright red letters and blinking lights to signal even the densest and most reckless person on earth that they are going to make the biggest mistake that, not only would affect their pesky annoying life but also, make the people around them suffer in secondhand (but often for his case, firsthand) embarrassment.

Akaashi supposes that this is where he walks away and makes a run for it. There had been a fair amount of times his instinct has told him to do so. But the grounding _loyalty_ he possesses for his ace always kept him at the same spot where he is at the forefront of the crowd, looking at stupidity reincarnate straight to their faces.

The loud sigh that escapes his throat is warranted and justified. The ire so hotly invading all his senses made a grand appearance through his mostly neutral expression. He feels a little smug at the squeak he manages to elicit from Bokuto.

Bokuto, to give him meager credit, grovels on his knees, hands clutching pitifully at Akaashi’s feet, kissing them for apology—his wails of _but I swear we would win_ echoed loudly in the gym. Akaashi glares with all the anger raking through his soul. It was not a very large amount but it was enough to make him feel a little upset.

“Bokuto-san.” His voice is a little flatter, noticeable because he is stepping on his captain with the blankest look he could pull. If Bokuto thought he will just sit through this and cave in without trying to make him experience hell, he is sorely mistaken.

Bokuto cries his name. Akaashi crinkles his nose in disgust at the snot flying out of the overdramatic boy. He couldn’t _even_.

“I warned you, didn’t I? I warned you not to go through the bet.” _But did you listen_ lingers heavily in the atmosphere. Bokuto scrambles to his feet, putting his hand on the shorter male’s shoulder, his voice quivering but booming, “I was—was so sure that we would win, Akaashi. Believe me! I did not lose on purpose because I want to see you in a cheerleader uniform! Why would I let people see you in it? I don’t want other people to ogle you.”

Much to his chagrin, Akaashi softens at the declaration. It’s a curse—to feel so much love for a person. However, he does not let himself be swept away by the sincere words. He strengthened his guts, pushing Bokuto away.

“Akaashi.” Bokuto whimpers. Akaashi ignores his whining captain, steeling his gaze as he found the smirking face of the (pain-in-the-ass) Nekoma captain, his arms dangling a black and white sleeveless midriff, the dandelion edges just stopping assumingly just below his chest if he wore it. He twitches in preservation.

A year ago when he first met Kuroo, the first thought that came to his mind was _he looks like the Cheshire cat_. His grin. His mannerism. The mysterious ways he displays himself sometimes. Sly is the best word he could fit his whole person into a description. And now, a year later since meeting this scheming little cat with his scheming grin that rubs him the wrong way, Akaashi knows that he was right.

He fumes at his snickers.

“I hope, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi starts as he accepts the clothing like he is accepting death, “that you like heatwaves because I heard it’s very, very, very hot down there.”

He walks away with the ensemble. The chatters following him in wisps and in the petty side he discovered he has, he smirks menacingly at the pouty whine of the demon cat’s _“did he just told me to go to hell?”._

He is right. The top barely falls half an inch below his chest, his flat stomach exposed for the whole world to see. The skirt does not help at all in covering what was left of his dignity. The black lower ensemble has two slits in either side reaching his upper thighs—and when he moves the wind seemingly appears out of nowhere and makes the skirt _sway way too much in a gym and in a season that is not really windy_.

Thank the gods that he could hide his legs with the thigh-high socks. It left two inches of expose skin between the skirt and the socks but he could survive with it.

 _Hmmm_ , he thought looking at himself in the mirror, _he looks really pretty._

There’s a sudden halt in his movements and thoughts, the whirring of a plan coming into life, and it reflects in the way his eyes gain a sudden twinkle that could rival the Cheshire cat.

_Yes, he really looks pretty._

The moment he steps into the busy gym was the moment he sees the chaos that the cheerleader uniform could create. Konoha has outwardly bitten his tongue and Komi has gaped. The others freezing or dropping whatever they’re holding in awe. But it was Bokuto who took the cake—receiving the ball with his face unflinchingly, mouth hitting the floor, and then tripping over thin air.

And Akaashi preens to himself, all secretive smirk and expose skin, the pompoms in his hands rustling against his hidden mouth.

“A-akashi-s-san.” He watches Hinata’s face reddens when he catches his eyes and he smiles in the motherly way he does when he is in front of the boy, “Yes, Hinata?”

“Y-y-y-you look so pretty!” The initial stuttering turns into a full-blown compliment, the innocence of the boy incomparable. He almost melts at the innocent excitement pouring out his junior. He pats him gently, smiling at him, “Why, thank you, Hinata.”

“AKAASHI.” Always quick to recover, Bokuto barrels his way towards him. Prepared for anything ever since meeting the older boy, Akaashi sidesteps, letting his captain hit the floor instead of opening his arms for him.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto is all but whining, tears escaping his eyes in that childish way he does whenever he doesn’t get the thing he wanted. Akaashi smiles down at his captain, “Bokuto-san, your nose is bleeding. You better get that check.”

“Forget my nose! I want you out of those clothes!” It wasn’t intended to be lewd or anything but Akaashi took the words out of his captain and pressured him into climbing down to hell. Akaashi widens his eyes, demurely saying, “What a thing to say, Bokuto-san. I did not peg you to be such a perverted person.”

“No… I… I did not mean it that way.” Bokuto’s head swivels, hearing the murmurs from the people around, trying to defend his innocent self but the heavy blush that took over does not mitigate his words, his head already giving him a hard time because _this is not the time to imagine that, Bokuto, god!_

“Then what do you mean?” Akaashi has a small smile playing across his lips and Bokuto is very, very afraid. He gulps in fright realizing far too late what Akaashi is doing and _yes, yes, he really is going to hell for being a pervert—gods, please help him._ He flounders, “Not in a perverted way, of course.”

It was not a very convincing argument and he swears he heard Kuroo laughs at him, that stupid bastard. Akaashi nods mockingly, eyes a splatter of disbelief, “Yes, of course. Bokuto-san isn’t really a pervert.”

And for extra measure, Akaashi leans down, presses his lips against his ears, and imprints the words behind his lids, “He wouldn’t ever dream of actually taking this off me one by one. He wouldn’t dream of sliding these socks off me, not even to hike up this skirt, and certainly not leave bruises just below where the top stops.”

Bokuto explodes or implodes or whatever hormonal teens do when provoke by an irresistible force. He wilts against the floor and curses because Akaashi is so petty and so mischievous and he doesn’t know what to do because he is half hard and the cause of it is walking merrily away from him, a spring in his steps.

Akaashi is beyond satisfied.

Bokuto soon discovers that Akaashi in a cheerleader uniform is not good for his heart.

Akaashi ambushes Bokuto with his seductive prowess. It starts really simple. Akaashi informs him that he will not be participating at the practice match this afternoon as compensation to the humiliation he has. And of course, being the guilty caring captain and _boyfriend_ that he is, Bokuto has agreed.

His agreement earns him a well-placed gasp of appreciation, Akaashi pressing himself tightly against his side and kissing the corners of his mouth. Bokuto has let his wandering hands fall at the expose juncture of Akaashi’s hips, making a circling motion that elicit a soft moan. Akaashi deliberately traces his fingers from Bokuto’s face to his chest, dancing across the expanse until it reaches the waistband of his shorts and Bokuto preens in excitement.

They were out by the sink and any people could see them if they just turn right (he could hear Kageyama’s voice scolding Hinata while Sugawara placates the two) but it’s been awhile since Akaashi has tried to do anything with him since the start of the training camp and he is just so _thirsty_ for his junior.

“Bokuto-san is so thoughtful.” He swallows at the low rumbling purr, the ghost touches of his hands against his hardening member sends shiver through his spine. Akaashi presses more tightly, flush against his body and he could feel his breathing against his lips, Bokuto feels his lids grow heavy before he closes them, lips descending against hot ones.

Except they never connect with Akaashi’s lips. Instead, he found himself hard and aching, his body tingling at the residues of Akaashi’s seduction, and a lonely disposition by the sink as he belatedly realizes that Akaashi has smoothly scampers off, humming in his prettiest, most teasing, and pettiest glory.

“Do you think Akaashi-san wore a panty under that?” Bokuto’s ears perk at the low conversation between Lev and an uninterested Kenma. The mere question throwing him on a loop and fuels his imagination.

Why are people out there to torture him?

“Why don’t you ask?” Kenma is set on sending Lev to his death, whether it be by Yaku’s or Bokuto’s or Akaashi’s, he doesn’t care. He just wants to make the annoying giant leave him be.

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto grinds, a glare set in place eliciting a squeak from the half-Russian. “I advise you not to, little one.”

Lev nods—because Bokuto isn’t the only one glaring at him. Yaku has sent him a displeased expression, one that tells him that his dreams for the night isn’t going to be a reality.

As soon as Lev has run off to Yaku, Bokuto turns to where Akaashi is. The man chatting pleasantly with Sugawara. He walks to his direction with one clear purpose, a goal which has slid off his tongue the moment he is in hearing parameter.

Akaashi only blinks at him, lifts his skirt just enough to see the edges of a black short tights, and turns away from him without another word.

Bokuto stammers at the bold action. Kuroo, pitying his best friend, pushes him off to the distance so he could collect himself.

It doesn’t stop there. The suspense has been killing him inside while he seethes in embarrassment at the obvious seduce-then-take-no-action plan of his favorite setter. He cannot count how many times he has to excuse himself to the bathroom or to scurry for gory and disgusting imagery to will his hardness away.

Akaashi _should not_ bend that way while wearing _that_. Why is he even stretching? Didn’t he say he would not participate in any training this afternoon? For the love of god, **stop bending over!**

“You’re so thirsty for Akaashi and it shows.” Konoha has kindly given him a ball to cover his thirsty evidence and looks away. Bokuto receives them with as much confidence he could still gather, head already hang so low.

If hell was redesigned to be a situation where Akaashi wears a cheerleader uniform, provokes his hormones during practice games and between breaks, seduces him and makes him think he is getting some before pulling away and prancing out, then Bokuto is in hell.

Akaashi is barely doing anything now, he could just blink or stretch as he yawns and Bokuto would salivate. He clenches his hands into fists, teeth biting his lower lip, a conveniently placed volley ball on his lap.

“This is so unfair.” He complains to Kuroo who sat beside him. His best friend merely looks at him so he continues, “Akaashi is playing with me. He knows what he is doing to me and yet he wouldn’t let me touch him!”

“That’s karma, Bokuto.” Kuroo says in his arrogant voice with his arrogant grin and with his arrogant hair. Bokuto huffs at him, “This is your fault, you know.”

“Hey, hey, I wasn’t the one who lost.” Bokuto was very confident when he took up the bet. Kuroo had looked smug then, asking him if he is sure and he did assert his sureness by shaking the offered hand firmly, ignoring Akaashi’s disapproving eyes and the condescending click of his tongue; not knowing that he will come to regret his bravado three sets game later. He withers at the memory.

“You’re an asshole, you know.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you lost.”

“I thought you would lose because you want to see Kenma in a cheerleader outfit.”

“You think Kenma would not kill me if I lost? That’s such faith, man.” Kuroo is right. Kenma would not even lift a finger but he will find ways where Kuroo ends up dead—or half-dead, he knows Kenma would not really kill Kuroo. (There’s a tiny doubt there but he doesn’t voice it because he has faith for Kenma apparently.)

“What should I do now?” Because there should be a way where the ending of this day is happy or Akaashi would always hold this crime against him for the rest of their lives together. Kuroo hums, “Let him have his fun. You’ll get yours eventually.”

Bokuto looks at the other side of the gym and catches Akaashi’s eyes. He feels his heart skip because there’s a flirty sort of smile playing across those kissable pink lips and the gunmetal blues that were usually restrained of their emotions were fiery and cool at the same time and Bokuto can’t even work his tongue properly to answer Kuroo’s statement.

When Akaashi crosses his legs and the skirt hikes up ever so teasingly, Bokuto groans.

“Would you like me to help you?” Bokuto’s initial reaction would be to scream _no, for the love of gods, Akaashi, I can’t anymore_ but he grins at the setter who is still clad in a cheerleader uniform, wearing it so self-assuredly that any person would envy the way his confidence is justified.

“Oh, Akaashi, thank you.” He says, handing some balls for Akaashi to put in the basket trolley. Akaashi has proceeded to help pick up the stray volley balls and Bokuto isn’t sure if he is still doing his seduction or if he is just genuinely trying to help—whether it is either of the two, it still rouses something from him, a very hormonal teenager.

“Akaashi…” His voice is dipped low, strained with what little self-control he still has. Akaashi throws him a glance and it is the sultry kind and _oh—oh, he is still trying to stir him._

“You should finish soon, Bokuto-san.” It doesn’t take a genius to get the gist from the younger’s words, Akaashi disappearing into the storage room.

Bokuto had never worked his ass off in cleaning until this very moment.

“Is my punishment over, Keiji?” Bokuto asks as soon as he opens the storage room. Akaashi hums at his spot, legs cross, arms leaning back, face flush pink. It’s the sexiest dominant pose Bokuto has seen from the setter—and he has seen _a lot_.

“I don’t know.” Akaashi starts, “Did you learn your lesson?”

Bokuto barrels his way, crossing the distance, and only stopping when Akaashi raises a hand. Akaashi tilts his head, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m thinking of pinning you down.” Honesty has always been his strong point. Akaashi hums, “Oh ho? And then? Will you tell me, Bokuto- _san_ , while you crawl towards me?”

He would. He would even swallow nails and drink poison if Akaashi told him to. He would dangle himself at the edge of a cliff while snakes bite on his wrist if Akaashi asked him to. He would do _anything_ to please Akaashi.

Bokuto kneels, hands roaming the expanse of the floor. He growls, “After I pin you down, I will kiss you.”

“Is that all you want?”

“Oh no, Keiji. I want so much more.”

“Elaborate it then.”

“When I get my hands on you, I would get in between your legs, press my knees to give you sweet, sweet friction, and I would make you use your hand. You know you have been such a tease, Keiji.” He purrs, “You will stroke me up and down until I am dripping. But I won’t be very satisfied with only that. You know I have been so tempted with your pretty smirking mouth. Why not put it to good use like you really want to? We both know how much you love sucking me off.”

Akaashi shivers at the description, swallowing at the last sentence because _yes, they both know how much he likes Bokuto abusing his mouth with his cock_. He can feel his heart beat erratically, breathing going uneven, eyes growing half-lidded, his only focus is Bokuto who is creeping ever so closely.

“And would that be all?” He whispers huskily because Bokuto is already by his feet and he knows that his quiet voice could be heard at such a distance. Bokuto kisses his feet, untying the laces with his teeth, and ridding him of his shoes. He does not know when he had spread his legs but there he is, a witness to Bokuto’s ministration between his thighs.

Bokuto continued to kiss his feet and then his ankles and then his knees until he is kissing the expose skin unhidden by his skirt and socks. He gives a breathy gasp, “ _Koutarou_.”

“Didn’t you tell me that I wouldn’t be able to get you out of these socks of yours?” Bokuto mumbles and Akaashi keens when Bokuto grazes his skin with his teeth before biting down and sucking. A loud moan escapes him, trembling ever so slightly as Bokuto began to strip his sock down with his teeth, first his right before going to his left, biting and leaving bruises as he goes.

“W-well,” He stutters, hazy with the lewd mood, “if you weren’t such a fool.”

Bokuto chuckles, kissing the inside of his thighs when he maneuvers him out his socks, a bubbling apology rumbling in his chest. Akaashi pulls him up and letting themselves fall on the stacked mats he was sitting on.

“But I’m your fool. And I know how much you love this fool of yours.” Akaashi rolls his eyes before initiating the first kiss of the day, tongues hotly melding with one another. Bokuto explores the familiar cave, the muscular tracing what it could before he sucks Akaashi’s tongue.

Akaashi lets himself be swept by Bokuto’s pace, hands creeping down, down, down until he is met by throbbing member behind white shorts. He purrs at the hotness, grasping it with his hand and preening at the growl he elicited from his lover. He doesn’t waste time from pulling it out from its constraint, coming into contact directly, hands skillfully stimulating the hardness further.

Bokuto breaks the kiss, appreciating Akaashi’s swollen lips, eyes lingering at the saliva that connects them. He glowers with lust, “Sit for me, darling.”

Akaashi does. He let himself be guided into a sitting position and he is delighted to see Bokuto kneels in front of him, his member directly in his face. He didn’t wait for further instruction, tongue darting out to taste the pre-cum, Bokuto hissing at his action.

“Did you miss sucking me off this much?” Bokuto asks, voice breaking as he watches Akaashi laps at his cock, tongue sleeking below to the top before taking it in, Bokuto’s cock hitting the back of his throat. Akaashi only hums, the vibration sending him further to the edge and Bokuto moans.

Trails of saliva drops down Akaashi’s chin, mouth hollowing as he continues his ministration, pupils deliriously blown—it pulls a animalistic groan from Bokuto, the picture making him all hot all over and he can’t help it when he began to thrust forcefully. Akaashi only moans louder at the forceful action, preening at the roughness.

Bokuto cums with a glower and Akaashi swallows, some thick whiteness escaping and slipping down his chin. Bokuto is enamored with the scene. Without a beat, he pulls Akaashi to him, positioning him so he could put his legs on either side of his body while they sat. Akaashi frowns at his captain’s clothes, pulling them off him before he smiles down on him, “And then what?”

“And then I’m going to fuck you raw until you pass out.”

Akaashi makes a keening noise as he felt two fingers press against him, a satisfied purr rumbling from him when Bokuto freezes.

“Fuck, Keiji, you’re so hot.” Bokuto pulls at the edge of the toy that he pushed earlier in himself before helping his captain. He slyly grins, “No need to prepare me. I did so in the event that you would _fuck me raw until I pass out_.”

Bokuto hikes up the skirt, eyes zeroing at his hand as he pulls out the toy completely. Grinning up, he grips Akaashi’s hips and lining him to his hard member. It isn’t difficult to get arouse if you have such a pretty and hot partner.

The thrust was without warning, fully being pierced to the hilt. Akaashi arches his back in pleasure, hips being forcefully guided into a slow rhythm that makes him whine. The scratches Akaashi makes as he clung to him adds to his pleasure, it turns him on how his back would look after, reminding him how they were made—fully intending to gloat once more to Kuroo his lovely endeavors with his beautiful setter.

Bokuto busies himself with the Akaashi’s expose stomach, kissing and suckling, being sure to leave marks everywhere, pushing the offending top that help Akaashi with his plan and biting the uncovered nipples.

Akaashi bounces, finding a more pleasurably pace. The loud moan that echoes out his throat signals Bokuto of his prostrate. His captain thrusted into him with precision and it is so _deep and hard and it gets deeper and deeper and harder and harder._

Akaashi doesn’t notice that he is muttering his wants until he is getting plowed with unrestrained force. Bokuto separates quickly only to flip Akaashi unto his hands and knees, connecting them immediately. Bokuto shudders—there’s just something about seeing your cock disappear as Akaashi’s skirt hides it. His poundings grow rougher as the edges of the skirt grazes his cock. Akaashi whimpers and squeaks at the rough treatment, the slaps of skin stimulating him even more.

“Koutarou. Koutarou. _Please. Please._ ” He is on edge, already dripping since sucking Bokuto. He is close. He is so very close. Just more. _More deeper, more harder, more faster thrusts._ Bokuto is nothing but a good lover, following his setter’s pleas obediently. And _oh! He is also getting there_. The pace grows erratic and they are both panting each other’s name like it is the only thing that could save their lives. The tightness builds and builds and builds and—

“Koutarou!” Akaashi is first to cum but Bokuto is quick to follow, moaning Akaashi’s name like a prayer. He pulls away, kisses the back of Akaashi’s neck and the bites he couldn’t help but make at every expose skin he could see. Bokuto stares at the disheveled mess in front of him.

Akaashi’s skirt is all hike up and stained, the midriff push up and he can see the nipples he played with still standing hard, his legs, his arms, the back of his neck, his back, his stomach have the beginning purple stain—the hickeys, he knows, would stay for days and days. Akaashi’s eyes are half-lidded, thick lashes framing his lustful stare, drools lining down his chin—he looks so ravished.

Akaashi lifts his skirt and spreads his legs, a hand finding his used hole and spreading them apart to let cum drips out, “Aren’t you going to fuck me raw until I pass out.”

Bokuto shivers and then glowers, “Of course I am.”

Akaashi is wearing his spare jogging pants and varsity jacket, an innocent scarf that he prepared for precaution sitting around his neck. And he glares at his captain who whimpers pathetically at his feet. Of course, it was not Bokuto’s sole fault but would it have not killed him not to overdo his marking?

“Akaashi!”

Really. There should be a drawn line somewhere that limits the amount of stupidity for a person. Or a humungous sign with bright red letters and blinking lights to signal even the densest and most reckless person on earth that they are going to make the biggest mistake that, not only would affect their pesky annoying life but also, affect the people around them suffer in secondhand (but often for his case, firsthand) embarrassment.

Kuroo opens his mouth but he smolders him with his glare.

“Not another word from you.”

But Kuroo could say a thousand words without actually opening his mouth. Akaashi seethes because there’s a look of superiority that sits so smugly on Kuroo’s face—like he planned everything because he is such a _kind_ person who is just _helping his dear overly frustrated friend who had been complaining to him about the drought his sex life has been since the start of the training camp._

Oh, he could tell from the arrogant smirk he throws his way, chortling his lifeline away.

“Bokuto-san.”

“Yes?”

“Well played.”

At Bokuto’s squawk, he turns away, not bothering to clarify his side and praying internally that Bokuto would not have another meddling sly friend like Kuroo in the future.

(Still, he thanks the cat in his thoughts anyway.)

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some review. :D


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